


Love Me Harder

by harrietelizabeth



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 03:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6737260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrietelizabeth/pseuds/harrietelizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smut. That's it, that's the plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Me Harder

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know, this was in my head all day so I decided to write it down. Sorry for any mistakes, this hasn't been proofread (oops). Comment/leave kudos if you enjoyed :)

“Payno.”

It’s Louis; of course it is. No one else would be ringing Liam at almost midnight on a Saturday, when he’s just trying to decide whether to load the next episode of Game of Thrones, or call it a night and go to bed. 

“What’s up Lou?” Liam asks, tapping a finger against the keyboard of his laptop. 

“Get dressed, we’re going out,” Louis says in his typical brisk, authoritative manner. Liam sighs. He should have known.

“It’s late, Lou. I’ve got an assignment due Monday and –“

“Liam, you and I both know that studying is strictly banned on Saturday nights. Anyway, you’ve got all day tomorrow to do it. I was going to come round so you can help me, anyway, cos I haven’t started either.” Liam rolls his eyes, he knows that by ‘help’ Louis means ‘do most of my assignment for me.’ 

“Anyway,” Louis is saying, “you’ve been a miserable prick since you broke up with Sophia, it’s time you pulled your head out of your ass and remembered how to have a good time.”

“You know insulting me really isn’t the best way to get me to do what you want,” Liam says, but he knows Louis’s right. It’s been three months since he and his last girlfriend parted ways so that she could ‘focus on her studies’ (though Liam’s noticed on her social media she’s been more focused on her new boyfriend than her marketing degree). He’s only been out a handful of times since then, preferring to stay home with his laptop and a familiar movie than be dragged to a bar by Louis and be set up with some stranger he’s not really into. Louis’s tried to get him to go on a date with a dozen or so people – boys and girls – since Sophia, but Liam’s always protested it’s too soon.

“God, it’s like I can hear you think from here,” Louis’s saying over the phone, and Liam pulls himself out of his thoughts. Louis may be an asshole, but he does know Liam better than he knows himself sometimes. 

“Sorry. But I really don’t –“

“What was that Zayn?” Louis says, and it’s muffled slightly, like he’s holding the phone away from his ear. But the name still jumps out at Liam, makes his heart beat a faster tattoo in his chest. 

He’s only met Zayn a handful of times, because he’s studying at some fancy arts college in London, a far cry from Louis and Liam’s community college in Exeter. He’s come to visit a few times though, because he and Louis have been best friends since they were kids, and in that time, Liam’s developed a sort-of crush on him. Liam had been with Sophia since he started uni, though, so his feelings have been muted by the fact that Zayn – or rather, Liam – was off limits. But Liam’s single now, and Zayn’s here, and Louis is yelling at him down the phone that he’s got fifteen minutes to get dressed, because they’re coming to pick him up. Liam mumbles a meek ‘OK’, then proceeds to find his cleanest shirt and nicest pair of jeans.

//

The bar they’re in is noisy and packed, usually the kind of bar Liam hates, but he’s actually having fun. Louis is always generous when he’s drunk, so he’s been buying drinks for Zayn and Liam since they walked in. Liam’s only accepted every second offer, because he doesn’t usually drink much, but he’s pretty buzzed. And because he’s pretty buzzed, Zayn’s even more beautiful than Liam remembered him. He’s grown his hair out since the last time Liam saw him, and shaved the sides so that it’s all sharp edges and then floppy and long on top. He’s gorgeous, Liam thinks, as he watches Zayn light a cigarette under one of the heaters outside and scan the surrounding area. He’d never go for Liam, he knows this, because he could have his pick of literally anyone here. Just as soon as this thought crosses Liam’s mind, though, Zayn’s eyes flit over the rest of the crowd and come to rest on Liam, where he’s standing awkwardly near the bar, waiting for Louis to order their last round of drinks from the bartender he’s been trying to chat up all night. Probably why he’s insisted on paying every time. 

It’s stupid, and cliché, but when Zayn’s eyes meet Liam’s he feels like everything slows down a little, and goes blurry in his peripheral vision. He feels warm, even though it’s a freezing cold night, like he’s bathed in sunlight or submerged in a warm bath. There’s a familiar tingling at the base of his spine that makes him think of slow grinding on dance floors and hands gripping the bed sheets. He wants Zayn, like he hasn’t wanted anyone since his last girlfriend, wants to see how his skin looks against Liam’s sheets, wants to know every tattoo on his body, not just the ones he can see on his arms and the ones peeking out of the neckline of his tee shirt. 

He suddenly freaks out that Zayn can read everything Liam’s thinking on his face, as Zayn smirks and looks away, flicking the ash off his cigarette in a way that makes Liam’s stomach curl with desire. He doesn’t know when he started getting turned on by smoking.

“Go ask him for a fag, you idiot,” Louis’s smarmy voice comes from behind Liam, and he jumps slightly. 

“What?”

“I see you two having eye-sex across the room. Just go and talk to him for god’s sake.”

Liam’s glad for the dim lighting in the bar, because he knows he turns bright red in that moment. If Louis noticed them staring at each other, he wonders how many other people did as well. Liam clears his throat.

“Aren’t you coming?” Liam asks, noticing there’s only two drinks in Louis’s hands.

“Na, Harry just finished work, we’re going to have a dance.” Liam follows Louis’s gaze over to the bar, where the boy Louis’s been hitting on all night is standing, smirking their direction. 

“Right,” he says, a little nervously. He’s never hung out with Zayn without Louis there before. 

“Here,” Louis says, thrusting the two drinks in his hand at Liam. “Drink them both or give one to Zayn, but either way, go and talk to him. He’s not as scary as he looks.” Liam definitely does not trust Louis after three years of friendship, but he figures he doesn’t really have a choice, so he takes both the foaming beers that Louis’s given him and walks through the crowded smoker’s courtyard to where Zayn’s standing, still alone, to Liam’s surprise. 

“From Louis,” Liam says, placing the beers on the bar leaner next to Zayn. He smiles, and it throws Liam off guard, because it seems to come from nowhere. One moment, Zayn’s brooding and sulky looking, a cigarette dangling from his lips, the next, it’s like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, blinding Liam a little bit. 

“Where’s he got to?” Zayn asks, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray on the leaner.

“Off with the bartender,” Liam says, taking a long sip of his beer and trying not to choke on it on the way down. “Harry, I think.” Zayn smirks a little a Liam, and he blushes again. He’s so stupid.

“Classic Lou,” Zayn says. “He always knows the right people to chat up – the bartender for free drinks, the bouncer to skip queues, the RA so he wouldn’t dob him in for drinking in his dorm room.” Liam snorts; Zayn’s exactly right. Louis doesn’t exactly use people, but he does know how to use his charm and good looks to get what he wants. 

They chat for a while, about uni, their lecturers, some of the movies they’ve seen recently, until Liam forgets that it’s Zayn he’s talking to and just lets himself enjoy the conversation that seems to flow so easily between them. They’re both surprised when Louis comes over with Harry in tow, telling them it’s last call and he wants to go home. 

“Hazza’s going to drive us,” Louis says, leaning against Harry, who smiles blissfully down at him. Louis’s charm definitely worked there. 

“Guess I’m sleeping on the couch,” Zayn grumbles as the four of them head to Harry’s car. Liam blurts it out without thinking.

“You could stay at mine,” he says, then backtracks quickly when Zayn, Louis and Harry look at him in surprise.

“I mean, there’s a spare bedroom in my flat. Niall’s at home visiting his parents until Monday,” he stammers. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you crashed in his bed for the night.” Zayn smiles at him as they climb into the backseat together, and there’s something sort of mysterious about it that Liam can’t quite put his finger on. 

The alcohol is mostly wearing off as Harry follows Liam’s directions to his flat, and tries to fob off Louis’s advances from the front seat. The upside is that he doesn’t stumble when he gets out of the car and thanks Harry for the ride, and doesn’t drop his keys as he unlocks the front door. The downside is he’s hyper-aware of Zayn standing behind him, unreasonably close and giving him butterflies in his stomach like he’s a bloody school boy with his first crush. 

He points out the bathroom to Zayn on their way through the house, then he pauses in the doorway of his room. 

“This is my room, but like I said, Niall’s room is free, it’s just the next door over. If you….if you want your own bed.” Liam says, trying not to make it sound too much like he doesn’t want Zayn in his bed. Because he does, he really does, and it’s all he can think about with Zayn leaning against his doorway, making Liam feel trapped even though there’s a whole room behind him.

“What if I don’t want my own bed,” Zayn says, and Liam feels a wave of relief wash over him before Zayn’s kissing him, pushing Liam into his room and spinning him round so his back hits the door as it shuts. Liam grunts into Zayn’s mouth, tasting the sweet lemonade Zayn had been mixing with his vodka, and smoke and mint and god, Liam hasn’t been kissed like this in too long. He goes weak against the door, letting Zayn trap him with one arm next to his head and the other on Liam’s hip, his thumb pushing up the fabric of Liam’s tee shirt to trace over the sensitive skin there. Liam shivers and his mouth falls open more, letting Zayn lick inside.

Then he pulls back, and Liam opens his eyes to see Zayn staring at him, eyes glittering in the darkness of Liam’s room.

“Is this ok?” he asks, and Liam reaches out a trembling hand to hook a finger through Zayn’s belt loop, pulling his hips flush with Liam’s own. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, knowing Zayn can feel how hard Liam is in his jeans. Fuck, he’s hard, feels like he’s been on the verge of it all night, and now all he wants is release. Zayn’s kissing him again, hungrily, rolling his hips against Liam’s and intensifying the pressure of his thumb on Liam’s hip as he rubs circles into his skin. It’s all Liam can focus on, the warm friction of the pad of Zayn’s thumb against Liam’s skin, just at the top of his pants, and he’s just imagining how it would feel swiping over the head of his cock, which is already wet with precome. 

Liam’s fingers find the button of Zayn’s jeans, fumbling to get them open so he can slide his hand inside, feeling the springy curls of Zayn’s pubes brush against his palm. Zayn moans into Liam’s mouth, sending spasms of pleasure down Liam’s spine as he rocks his hips between Zayn’s and the door behind him. He wraps a hand around Zayn’s cock and feels Zayn bite down on Liam’s lip until he tastes his own blood. With his left hand he pushes Zayn’s jeans down past his hips so he can find a proper rhythm, stroking Zayn fast and firm, torn between wanting this to last all night and wanting, needing, to get off as soon as possible. 

Zayn seems to be in the same predicament, as he oscillates between fucking his hips up frantically into Liam’s hand, burying his head in Liam’s shoulder and moaning shamelessly, and slowing his hips down, kissing Liam deep and filthy. When his moans reach a fever pitch, he whimpers, “finger, Liam, please,” and Liam lets his head fall back against the door. He’d forgotten what it was like to be with a boy, and he feels bad for a fraction of a second before he licks the ring finger of his left hand and traces around Zayn’s hole, feeling him give almost immediately. He’s so hard he can barely think, and Zayn hasn’t even put a hand on him yet. He gently eases his finger inside Zayn past the first knuckle, revelling in the tight heat of Zayn’s body and the insistent rocking of Zayn’s hips, into Liam’s fist one way and onto his finger the other. Liam’s barely slicked up a second finger and slid it in before Zayn’s hips stutter and he lets out a strangled groan, spilling into Liam’s hand. 

“Shit,” he croaks, and Liam feels a little bit proud as he looks at Zayn, hair wild and eyes glassy from lust, his lips swollen and wet from Liam’s mouth. Then he remembers he’s still hard and still desperate to get off, and leans in to kiss Zayn again, rubbing his hips a little desperately against Zayn. 

“Let me suck you off,” Zayn murmurs against Liam’s mouth, and Liam can’t summon words to answer, just nods as Zayn sinks to his knees and unbuttons Liam’s jeans. It’s almost too much, Zayn’s perfect mouth wrapping around his throbbing cock, looking up at Liam through dark, tangled eyelashes, not breaking eye contact even when he takes Liam too deep and gags a little. Liam’s eyes roll back in his head as he hits the back of Zayn’s throat and feels his oesophagus contract. He’s so close to coming its almost embarrassing, but he can’t help it with this gorgeous boy on his knees in front of him, his spit trailing from Zayn’s mouth to Liam’s cock when he pulls off with a wet ‘pop’ and stares up at Liam with a dazed expression on his face. Liam wants to come then and there, see Zayn’s face spattered with it, see him wipe it off with his fingers and lick it, and fuck, Liam’s really not going to last. 

“Gonna –“ he manages, squeezing his eyes shut as Zayn takes Liam all the way down his throat with a dizzying choking sound.

“In my mouth?” Zayn asks hoarsely. “Or you wanna nut off on my face?”

“Can I –“ Liam says, feeling the tension build in his stomach and behind his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Zayn says, voice low, and opens his mouth. It’s all Liam needs to send him over the edge, seeing Zayn so eager and willing for him, and he lets his orgasm hit him like a truck, blacking out for a second as he tries to aim for Zayn’s mouth, spraying some across his perfect cheekbones.

“Ffffffffuck,” Liam hisses when he regains the ability to speak, and looks down to see Zayn drag his fingers across his face then lick them hungrily. If Liam was physically capable of getting hard again immediately, he would. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” Zayn says, taking Liam’s hand to help him to his feet.

“Are you joking?” Liam says softly, brushing Zayn’s hair off his forehead. “You’re gorgeous. Had a crush on you since the first time you came up to visit Louis.” Zayn smirks. 

“I know,” he says, and Liam’s heart flips over a little bit. He feels slightly idiotic, but it’s kind of hard to now that he’s just come all over Zayn’s face. 

“Shut up,” Liam says, taking off his jeans and pulling his pants up. “You still want your own bed?”

“Nope,” Zayn says, grinning at Liam as he strips off his shirt and jeans and follows him over to the bed. “Let me guess, you’re the big spoon?”

Liam nods, feeling a little shy as he sees Zayn slide into his bed, his skin like dark caramel against the sheets, his myriad tattoos scattered over the taut muscle of his chest and stomach. He’s so beautiful Liam can hardly believe he’s allowed to touch him, but as soon as Liam’s in bed Zayn snuggles up next to him, lying his head on Liam’s chest and throwing an arm across his stomach. 

“Better get some sleep before round two,” Zayn says sleepily, and Liam makes a mental note to thank Louis for befriending Zayn, and Harry for succumbing to Louis’s charms, and Niall for being away in Mullingar for the weekend. It’s funny how these things work out, he thinks as he drifts off to sleep, Zayn’s weight warm and firm against his chest.


End file.
